


Mile High Club (With Wolves)

by Delta_Immortal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Airplane Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mile High Club, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, minor dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:19:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delta_Immortal/pseuds/Delta_Immortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So maybe there's been tension between Stiles and Derek ever since helping Derek move his stuff from New York to Beacon Hills. Like, accidentally walking into the bathroom and seeing things he shouldn't tension. But that's not going to come to a head on the airplane ride home, right? They're going to be on their best behavior, right? </p>
<p>Right.</p>
<p>(PWP)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mile High Club (With Wolves)

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is 18 years of age and older. Everyone is agreeable to actions, though Stiles goes off and does something without asking Derek first because he's a brat. Derek gets back at him without asking. Both of them enjoy their time 100% and are okay with it.

“This is boring,” Stiles groaned, standing in front of the boarding line for passenger group four. “It’s a six hour flight, Derek. I’m already _bored_.” Bored and tired, Stiles added mentally. Derek had taken him to pick up the last pieces of his life back in New York, sorting through burned things and old papers and now they were headed back to good old Beacon Hills. “Why couldn’t you even get first class? You’re loaded, right?”

Derek continued to ignore him. “You didn’t have to get up here so early,” he replied, looking at the boarding time. It started in one _hour_. “We’ve got plenty of time.” He glanced around at the other passengers, most of whom weren’t even present in the gate area.

Stiles huffed, pulling out his product placement tablet and turning it on for a distraction. Derek wasn’t ever good company when he got huffy like this. “Yeah right. You snooze and wait and suddenly your storage space is gone, Mr. Doesn’t have a carry-on. That space is _gold_. Gold.” He hummed to himself as he started up a game.

Derek shrugged, unconcerned. Stiles attempted to ignore him. He’d insisted that Derek take something with him on the flight- a book, a magazine, a _phone_ \- but Derek shrugged and insisted he was fine. He didn’t need anything, because being a werewolf apparently was enough to entertain him for a six hour flight.

Six hours.

The devil in question stretched, hand reaching down to the exposed skin and scratching his stomach. Stiles continued to work on ignoring the shift of Derek beside him, trying not to think about what happened in the hotel this morning, where in a rush and daze for the airport Stiles had stumbled into the bathroom, where Derek was getting ready for their long day by jacking off and…

Stiles shivered. He was not thinking about this. He was not thinking about how Derek looked at him in surprise, cock in his hand, how it took Stiles about ten seconds to realize what was being said- Stiles’s name. He was not thinking about how pretty Derek looked slicked back with water, droplets running over his skin and taunt muscles, how his stomach tensed, how the precome leaked out of his dick-

“You smell funny,” Derek grumbled, and Stiles couldn’t help the squeak that came out of him. Derek shot him a glare, as if he knew _exactly_ what Stiles had been thinking about, and Stiles pretended to get even more involved in his game. “Seriously, Stiles, we have an _hour._ ”

Stiles ignored him and went back to his game. Hopefully, Derek would just fall asleep in the back and they wouldn’t have to deal with this awkwardness until Beacon Hills, where they could then ignore it into oblivion.

 

…

 

Of course the airline would have put them in the tiny seats in the back. Stiles sighed, looking over to Derek. “The last row? Really?” Somehow he doubted Derek would have chosen these seats if he could have.

Derek looked equally pissed off. “I hate the tiny seats,” he complained. “All other classes were full.” He pointed towards the front of the plane, already packed with first and business class passengers. The back three rows were nearly empty, and Derek and Stiles were in an isolated row anyway.

Trying to find the upside, Stiles announced, “Well, we got the overhead space, so I’m going to consider it a victory.” He placed his bag up in the space, hauling his backpack up there as well, since Derek didn’t have anything.

Derek growled. “A seat next to the bathroom is not a victory.”

Stiles took his seat, pulling out his tablet and starting up his game. “What do you mean?”

Sighing, Derek took the space next to him. “The bathroom door isn’t well sealed, Stiles,” Derek replied slowly. “I can smell most of it.”

“You can smell the men in the bathroom?” Stiles asked, surprised. That had to be inconvenient, what with piss and shit and the occasional jacking off. Horror washed over him. “Oh God. Does that mean you could smell me when…?”

Cautiously he gazed up at the werewolf, who was pointedly looking anywhere but Stiles. Derek opened his mouth a couple of times to speak, but said nothing. Finally, after gaping like a fish, Stiles blushed, thinking of all the times this week he jacked off at the thought of Derek, maybe trying breathless pants while thinking of Derek’s hands, and Derek could hear _all of it_. “Oh God,” Stiles repeated, unable to tear his gaze away from Derek.

The werewolf’s cheeks seemed a bit red. “Why do you think I was jacking off this morning,” he huffed, pointedly looking at the front. “It’s hard to sit next to you when you smell like arousal. It was one thing on the plane here, but after _hearing_ you do it _every_ night,” he added, turning his face to glare pointedly at Stiles.

Stiles blushed. “You could have said something,” he replied. “So, what, you were creeping on me every night? Just sitting and listening to me-“

“Cry out my name,” Derek finished for him tightly. Pointedly he looked forward towards the door where the airline attendant forced a smile at a man already demanding vodka.

Stiles sputtered. “I can’t believe you,” he hissed, looking around in case anyone else had heard Derek. “How dare you listen in on a man’s private conversation with himself?”

Derek rolled his eyes as the last of the people came onto the plane and sat. “Sorry, seemed like you were talking to _me_ , given that you said my _name_ ,” he snapped.

Stiles stewed in anger, unable to think of anything other than how embarrassed he was that Derek heard all of that. He ignored the cries of a passenger stuck outside the locked airplane door, focusing on how _rude_ it was that Derek listened in on him. How rude and incredibly, totally hot.

They could have been having mutual masturbation sessions this entire trip. Derek had even jacked off in response to how hot he found it, how tempting he found Stiles on the airplane.

Stiles’s anger abated, thinking about it. It clearly riled Derek, and Derek had given into Stiles’s whims. Maybe when they got back Stiles could show Derek what he thought about, and Derek would show him, and the showing would evolve into exploratory touching, maybe in the shower.

Since he could already hear Stiles anyway, and listened in like a creeper.

Derek snorted and groaned, probably still smelling him, and oh, wasn’t that an idea, Stiles thought as they watched the safety videos. There wasn’t anyone nearby on the plane. And the tension would be too thick for 6 hours; Stiles had to think about cutting off some of that anyway, right? And when they were done, they could join the mile-high club?

He grinned as the flight attendants sat down, preparing for take off, pictured Derek listening to him in the bathroom as the plane sped up. Derek growled at him and pointed at the screen. “You’re dying,” he implied, but Stiles shrugged.

Instead Stiles closed his eyes, picturing the fantasy, knowing Derek would be able to smell it. He pictured Derek back on the bed in the apartment, fucking him into the mattress. Maybe Derek would take his time, too, and just lick Stiles all over, with that sheen of sweat Stiles had seen, with that beautiful mouth whispering broken calls of his name, like a desperate man.

“Your captain has turned off the seatbelt sign. Feel free to move around the cabin.”

Oh. They were already in the air. Stiles hastily undid his seatbelt and jumped over a very red Derek. “Bathroom,” he announced, because there was no way he’d be jacking off _next_ to Derek, no way. Not when someone could _see_. But he did need to jack off- and he needed Derek to hear.

In the bathroom he locked the door, still thinking of his fantasy, still hoping this would pan out. He could picture Derek in the seat back there, listening and smelling as much as he could. So he pictured them together, sitting closely as he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, stroking it just a little.

Easily he pictured Derek’s arm underneath his fingers, muscles flexing, as Stiles would push an eager Derek away from his cock. “No, no,” Stiles would say, scolding as he opened his legs a little. “Good try though.” Stiles took a wider stance, panting.

Derek’s eyes would get so big and round and red before narrowing down, understanding exactly what Stiles wanted. His mouth would suddenly descend on Stiles’s cock, so wet, teeth a little sharp, punishing.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed, picturing it as he stroked himself a few more times. “Fuck yes. Suck me.”

The idea that Derek could hear him, that Derek was stuck hearing and _smelling_ him jolted Stiles to completion, making his climax that much sweeter as he came. He took a moment to enjoy it, thinking of Derek’s face as he wiped himself off, muttering, “Did you like listening to _that_ , buddy?”

He flushed the toilet and sauntered out, matching Derek’s glare with a smirk of his own. Maybe it would have been bad; maybe he should have asked Derek ahead of time. But whatever. Derek had also jacked off to his name- this would probably result in angry sex later, and Stiles was 100% okay with that.

“Oops,” Stiles commented airily. “Forgot you could hear me,” he lied. He walked up to Derek’s seat and stopped, waiting for Derek to get up and move so Stiles could go back to the window.

Derek didn’t. Instead he opened his arms, as if to ask, “What are you going to do about it?” But Derek didn’t say anything. Because he was a jerk. He just waited, his eyebrow raised in challenge.

Challenge accepted. Stiles glared back at him, hauling one leg over Derek’s lap, facing away from him towards the front of the plane. He paused and made sure to squeeze his ass just a little, enough that Derek could see it through his jeans. Two could play at this game. Two could play the game of sexy seduction tension -whatever the name was didn’t really matter. What mattered is that two people could play it, and he _knew_ Derek wanted to play, given by the growl that escaped the other man, just barely audible over the drone of the engines.

As soon as his foot hit the ground and Stiles was equally above Derek’s lap, Derek shoved him forward and pressed Stiles into the top of the next seat, hips grinding into Stiles’s ass. He was hard. Frightfully hard, and he kept grinding against Stiles’s thighs, growling as he grabbed Stiles’s hair.

Rough.

“Fuck yes,” Stiles breathed, his breath coming in sharp pants. Even if he was spent from earlier, he liked this. Derek thrust against him twice, squishing him against the seat and Stiles had to bite his lip hard to keep from crying out, to keep all those people ahead from noticing what was going on in the back. With one wrong move they’d turn and see him, getting aroused from being rutted up like the wanton slut he was and-

Oh. Whoops.

Without out thinking he’d just spread his legs to feel more of Derek against his ass. Stiles swallowed as his cock began to fill, despite jacking off earlier. His back had arched, too- anyone looking at him would know exactly what was going on. Face flushed, he kept his eyes open, praying nobody would notice.

He felt so good as Derek ground up against him, though, and the thrill of being caught, the excitement that he was _getting_ away with it, that was making him wild. He couldn’t even get it up again so soon, but he wanted to remember this, every little feeling- the fabric digging against his shirt, the air vent blasting against his cheek. This was jack-off material of the highest caliber.

And just like that, Derek sat them both back down, pinning Stiles on his lap for just one second, jutting his hardness against Stiles’s ass. Stiles whimpered as he realized how big Derek was. He couldn’t see the others now and wondered if someone was looking at them. Derek’s body heat seared through his clothes, his broad chest against Stiles’s back and they fit together so well. Stiles could almost picture them in bed together, Derek above him-

Derek leaned down and _bit_ his neck, licking it just a little like in Stiles’s fantasy. Stiles shivered, mouth open. “See how you like it,” Derek hissed, and shoved Stiles into the window seat and covered his own lap with a blanket.

It wasn’t until a few seconds more that Stiles figured out why the dramatic change- a flight attendant was coming down the aisle, headed for them. Panic filled Stiles- had they been caught? But then she moved on, headed for the bathroom. Stiles breathed in relief.

And then stopped. Derek was adjusting himself underneath the blanket. Stiles looked at him curiously, as if to ask what the hell Derek thought he was doing. Derek ignored him, and the sound of a zipper filled the air, quiet enough that no one else would hear it, but the sound roared through Stiles’s ears.

Oh. Derek was giving Stiles a taste of his own medicine.

Stiles blushed, knowing exactly what Derek would say, and the moment Stiles’s name slipped past Derek’s lips Stiles tried to come up with an excuse, about why he might have been saying Derek’s name, but none came out. His secret was out; Derek knew.

Well. Derek knew before. But now Derek knew face to face.

No wonder Derek had wanted to jack off before the plane. Stiles stared at that moving bump beneath the blanket, where Derek was probably fisting his cock. Stiles licked his lips, wondering if Derek was wet and sloppy, if his cock had leaked any from how hard he was. Stiles leaked. All the time. He was a leaker. And he wondered about Derek’s cock, if biology had make him leak for what seemed to be a rather large bulge (and Stiles had seen the cock, he knew it was big compared to his), in order to provide some lubricant for his mate. And Derek was uncut, too- more mess.

Stiles licked his lips again. That mess belonged in his mouth. 

Suddenly the movements stopped. Stiles looked at Derek in curiosity, but Derek merely placed his hand above the blanket, reaching for Stiles’s wrist. His hand was wet and sticky, covered in precome. Stiles wanted to taste that hand.

Wildly Stiles’s heart beat in his chest, thudding at the sudden tension in the air. That hand had just been touching Derek’s _cock_ , that perfect, throbbing thing he’d seen earlier this morning. Derek’s thumb stroked the inside of Stiles’s wrist, smearing Derek’s precome on his wrist.

A challenge. Derek’s eyes were wide and blown, wild and lustful, craving Stiles’s touch. The bastard had _marked_ him, claimed him, werewolf announced to the world Stiles was sleeping with Derek.

Derek _wanted_ him. Holy fuck. Stiles swallowed, feeling the heat from his skin dry the gel almost instantly. He opened his mouth to speak, staring at Derek’s lips for a moment when-

The airline attendant moved past them, walking back to the front of the plane.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut- they were so close to getting caught.

Derek smirked, challenging Stiles. Stiles glared at him in return, his mind spinning and whirring. Something came to mind, he realized, eyes flicking to his wrist. Slowly, coyly, he brought his wrist to his lips, licking the come off it.

Beside him Derek nearly shifted into his beta form. His hands gripped the armrests tightly, claws extended. Luckily Derek’s growl was drowned out by the sound of engines around them, nobody but Stiles felt the rumble of Derek’s voice through his chest. Stiles grinned even wider at the flash of blue eyes.

“Oh, you like that?” He asked, smirking. “Well, I dunno if I can-“

Derek lifted the blanket from his lap.

Stiles stared. Derek was very aroused. Aroused and that was a very big, hard, throbbing cock. Yes. Very erect. Very throbbing. Very much needing to be in Stiles’s mouth.

“You like that?” Derek mocked him back.

Stiles didn’t wait to answer. Instead he reached his hand over to the painfully hard dick, fingers running up and down the length experimentally. It felt just like he’d imagined, really, somewhat soft and spongy, wet and slick from Derek’s earlier strokes. Derek’s chest jumped in response, his hand reaching to squeeze on Stiles’s wrist as his mouth opened just a little. Stiles kept stroking the shaft, fingers coming around the head, mesmerized at how Derek’s eyes glazed over, how his lips breathed Stiles’s name.

The power Stiles had over Derek’s body was maddening. Stiles swallowed, his mind coming to a head as he reached down between them watching as all of Derek’s body slumped over, giving in to Stiles’s touch. The shaft was messy, already lubricated with Derek’s precome. Derek’s head fell back as Stiles moved his fingers upward lightly, teasing the man.

“Hurry,” Derek breathed near Stiles’s mouth, and Stiles blushed, swallowing, and nodded. He’d kiss Derek later. Right now he trusted Derek’s werewolf senses that suggested they might get caught; that someone would walk by. So his hand picked up, forming a fist around Derek’s cock, and made it just a little bit tight, thumb pressing against Derek’s slit. Given how Derek’s hips jerked up, it was an appreciated move.

There was a flush around Derek’s neck, where sweat was starting to build. Hoping it was the right move, Stiles leaned down and licked at Derek’s neck as he increased the speed of his fist. Derek’s neck tensed up and Derek held back a beautiful moan that dove straight to Stiles’s gut. It was a wonderful sound; one of how undone Derek was in this moment, how much he trusted Stiles. Stiles pressed his teeth against Derek’s skin; Derek gasped and jumped, something warm and sticky spilling all over Stiles’s hand.

Derek’s eyes focused again, taking in the sight of Stiles licking his hand.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Derek breathed, trying to get his bearings. Stiles laughed and wiped the rest of his come on the blanket, using it to clean up Derek crudely and stuffed Derek back in his pants, blanket on the floor. He rested his head on Derek’s shoulder, breath across Derek’s neck.

“Scoot over. We’ve got four hours left, and I wanna use you as a pillow before we do that again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any mistakes are my own.  
> Written for a challenge I never got around to completing.  
> Please enjoy. 
> 
> ...I think that's all the notes I have for this fic.


End file.
